


Midnight Snack

by Arya_Greenleaf



Category: The Lost Boys (Movies)
Genre: Bisexual Character, Blood, Blood Drinking, Canon-Typical Violence, Kissing, M/M, Marko is Not Nice, Nipple Licking, Pre-Canon, Slice of Life, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:49:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27278269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arya_Greenleaf/pseuds/Arya_Greenleaf
Summary: Marko enjoys a mess -- he enjoys a struggle. But this is rare and exciting. His teeth break her skin easily, they sink into the muscle of her shoulder like a knife through butter. The hit of dopamine in the hot blood that flows over his tongue is better than any drug he’s sampled. Her heart slows and she gets softer and more pliable. Her hand drops from his shoulder, falling from her beau’s grasp.It’s remarkable how quickly a gallon goes.
Relationships: David & Dwayne & Marko & Paul (Lost Boys), Marko/Paul (Lost Boys)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	Midnight Snack

**Author's Note:**

> Marko likes to play with food of any gender. The boys are not nice. Remember that food is people.

“Marko,” David calls softly. “ _Marko_ ,” he sing-songs and it nearly gets lost in the waves. It does get lost to anyone else, of course, but not to them.

Marko halts where he is and turns, his boots making deep gouges in the wet sand. David strolls across the beach with Star on his arm like it’s a sunny day in June and not the middle of November in the middle of the night. He’s whispering something to her just low enough that Marko cannot hear. She glances at him and covers her mouth, laughing. They’re both straight-faced again when they reach him.

“Marko, why don’t you take Star and find us all something to eat?” He lifts his elbow to allow her to free her hand and holds her chin gently. “We’re all famished, aren’t we?”

Star smiles and Marko thinks she might be blushing under the wind-chapped pink of her cheeks. She passes lightly over the sand between them, hardly leaving a footprint, and takes Marko’s arm instead. She presses herself close and she’s detestably warm. It makes his skin crawl -- the stench of mortality that still clings to her like cheap perfume.

There’s no one left outside but junkies, drunks, and whores. It’s slim pickings. Marko would rather go hungry another night than indulge in a low quality cut of meat. Perhaps he can coax Star into making a kill, he thinks. Then they can be done with this senseless coddling and move forward. A decision had to be made sooner or later, he doesn’t understand what game David is playing and it’s wearing on his patience.

“ _Creepshow_ came out yesterday. Movie theater’ll be like an all you can eat buffet,” Paul offers. He’s right, the last showing would probably be getting out. Everyone would either be too tired or too wrapped up in each other’s pants to realize what was happening before it was too late. Paul is smart. He doesn’t always sound like he is, but the hairspray hasn’t entirely fried his brain yet. “We could all go over,” he says with a grin.

“Easy pickin’s,” Dwayne drawls.

David shakes his head. “We got thrown out of the theater last week, security will be on the lookout. It’ll be less obvious if they go alone.”

They all pivot back toward the boardwalk. Everything on the public end is closed up tight, only the overnight lights over the shops still on and the stairs down to the beach all blocked off. The guy in the patrol cart doesn’t bother trying to move any of the stragglers along. It’s their place at night.

They pick their way up the sand-slippery steps and duck under the chains at the top. Their bikes are just precisely where they left them and Marko shakes Star away to fish in his pocket and pass some crumpled bills to the guy who has claim over this section of the boardwalk. The sun-wrinkled old-timer lifts a finger to his brow in salute and rubs each bill against his knee to smooth it before pocketing them and getting comfortable on the bench again. 

Marko grabs the handles and launches himself over the body of his bike. He kicks the stand up with his heel and looks expectantly at Star. She’s much too tall to ride with him. She’ll unbalance him, slow him down. The bike bounces when she seats herself behind him and he cringes openly when she wraps her arms around his waist.

“Make sure you bring enough takeout home for the whole family, Marko.” David’s eyes are narrow and his thin smile splits his face like a harlequin. He revs his engine and takes off, Paul and Dwayne following close behind. Marko waits for the cacophony of their riding to fade before he releases his break and peels off the boardwalk and into town, headed for the movie theater.

Paul was right on the money.

They reach the theater right as the last showing is ending and Marko slides into an unobtrusive space near the corner to watch everything for a moment. Couples stumble out into the crisp nighttime air and the stark darkness between the streetlamps. They’ve all got their hands all over each other. Marko and Star sit on his bike downwind of everything. They stink of sweat and artificial butter and the staleness of saliva that’s been passed back and forth before it dries in the corners of mouths.

Marko sits up and shrugs Star away. He feels claustrophobic under the weight of her -- her arms around his waist and her cheek on his shoulder and her hair falling over him like shroud -- the smell of her overpowering anything else important and her heartbeat distracting him from the task at hand. He smacks the kickstand down with his foot and looks over his shoulder expectantly at Star, waiting for her to get off of him and off the bike.

It’s easy for them to fall in with the crowd. They stick close side-by-side. Marko pulls himself up as tall as he can, dropping his shoulders back and sticking his chest forward. It’s not who he is but it’s a skin he can slip into, imitating prey. The herd thins as some of them reach their cars on that block, others cluster on the corner and some move toward the bus stop. They need someone with a car, a bigger group. They need enough food to go around and they need it to be able to deliver itself.

Better, a car will be easier for disposal.

No one wants to dump a body in the middle of the night on foot.

And Marko hates when refuse is left just laying around.

Star does what she does best: She acts mysterious and and a little zany like she’s some kind of knock-off Stevie Nicks, swaying through the throng of people still chattering uselessly on the sidewalk in her shimmery shawl and tinkling bracelets. Marko smiles and watches her, letting her catch his eye. To anyone else they are just another couple, fresh from the popcorny darkness of the theater, playing a romantic game of cat-and-mouse -- frivolous youth.

“Do you mean the sea cave? At Hudson’s Bluff?” Star asks, interjecting herself into someone else’s conversation. They nod, welcoming her in because they don’t know any better. “Marko and I go down there all the time. It’s very… atmospheric,” she adds in her sing-songy lilt. She’s testing her powers, seeing how far they go in an amateurish imitation of David’s hypnotic purr. Marko slips through the space between the pair of couples she’s engaged with and slides up next to her. His arm fits neatly around her waist and he tangles his fingers into the fringe on the hem of her top.

“Isn’t the bluff all closed off? Earthquake destabilized the whole thing or something.”

Star shrugs and tips her head downward toward Marko. He cranes up just enough to brush his nose against her cheek. “If you go at it from the beach instead of the cliff there’s nothing to stop you,” he says.

“That’s like, _miles_ out of the way.”

“Not if you’re motivated.” His answer makes absolutely no sense, but they eat it up. They’re looking at him and Star like they’re some kind of alien creatures, but in a good way. A way that seems like they want to keep talking. “The caves are rad, man,” he smiles and it's slow like molasses across his mouth. 

The others exchange looks and Marko bursts into laughter. He puts his best foot forward and lets it sound like music. Their expressions shift and they seem calmer. More open.

“For parties, dudes!” Marko grins and they nod, bubbling with new enthusiasm. “Drag a case of brews down there, set up a few work lights, you’re good to go. Little bonfire on the sand, little cuddle in the caves...”

“That does sound pretty cool,” one of them says and they all agree.

“Isn’t there a party down there tonight?” Star asks, very casual.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Ooh, can we go? I don’t feel like heading home yet.” Star’s face brightens at the promise of a party. She’s good at lying, he’ll give her that.

“A party does sound good, babe,” one of the girls says. The breeze rustles through the palms overhead and the four of them chatter. Star encourages them, too bright and shining to distrust. Marko listens to the ghostly whisper of their thoughts, tastes the breeze as it dances across his lips. They’re all squeaky clean, the picture of health -- _Don’t drink, don’t smoke. What do you do?_

“Alright, it’s settled then! Marko, is it?” He nods, tuning back into the conversation. “We’ll follow you down to the bluff?”

“You got a car?” he asks.

“Yeah, ‘course, we all came out together, dude.”

“Excellent,” he laughs. Things feel almost like they’re going too well.

Marko is less bothered by Star’s weight against him as he leads this little feckless herd of cattle to slaughter. They don’t object when he leads them to the cliff, the party on the beach forgotten. The clean air of the seaside whips around them all as they get out of their car, giggling and pushing each other. All the collective stench of them is scoured away with the dagger-sharp drag of the breeze over everything.

“Well, come on then!” Star dips and twirls and dances toward the rickety wooden stairs down to the mouth of the cave and they look from her to Marko for reassurance. He raises his brows and tries not to smile _too_ much, wildly entertained by how easy this has been, and covers his mouth with his hand when he just can’t do it.

They’re all so loud on the stairs. The weather-beaten wood trembles under the pounding of their feet as they descend into the entrance of the cave. Music floats on the breeze and Marko knows that somehow Paul has gotten control of the record player by the distinctive melody of Coverdale’s voice over the crashing of the waves on the beach. David is in a generous mood, he supposes -- or Paul has put his foot down -- both are equally likely.

“ _Whoah_ ,” someone whispers when they step into the space that the tribe has claimed for their own. It’s always impressive to the uninitiated. There’s the decaying splendor of the remains of the hotel and the eclectic treasure-trash that they have added over the years fitted together in a way that seems purposeful, like a movie set dresser came in and put everything in its place.

“Where is everyone?”

“On their way,” Marko replies, easy-going as can be. From the shadows, the others emerge, laughing and punching each other like any other waste of post-teenage flesh in this braindead town. They grin and brandish the bottles and boxes they’ve dragged out from further back in their nest, deeper in the rock where it’s always cold.

Star glides across the room to take David’s arm and Dwayne twirls her along the way. Paul puts down the case of brews he’s lugging on the edge of the fountain and dances toward Marko, swiveling his body and thrusting his hips to the beat of the music. Paul grabs Marko’s hands and swings him in a circle, whipping him around fast enough that his hair flies around him.

“Come on,” David calls in his customary purr. “Come in, welcome to our humble abode. Have a drink. Make yourself at home.”

“Where’s the party?”

“Right here, babe, you’re the party.”

Marko pulls away from Paul and dances toward the group. “We’re all the party. Party’s us. Party’s you. Party’s any time your eyes are open.”

One of the girls smiles and lets Marko take her hand. Her eyes are glassy and her smile is dreamy. “That’s so… that’s so radical. What a thought!” She turns back toward her boyfriend, leaning in the cradle of Marko’s arms. “We’re all the party.”

They dance, they drink. It’s all in good fun. They boys like to have a good time as much as the next person. Without the crowds of the summertime and with security on the boardwalk keeping an closer eye on them, it’s nearly impossible to have any real fun -- nearly impossible to get a decent meal. It’s degrading to think of how many times in the last month the boys have had to beg Max to be fed.

They want to make the night last.

Marko hardly feels guilty when the pair of callow love birds can’t pull themselves away from him. It’s a thrill to be the object of a thrall -- to have selfish, grasping hands on him -- to have mouths begging for attention. Sandwiched together, they writhe to whatever the hell Paul has put on the record player. He laughs and lets himself be pushed into a pile of cushions, dust rising all around them when they fall. A pair of lips mashes against his throat and he can’t help but be entertained by the irony of it.

“Hogging all the snacks, Marko?” David shouts across the room from his customary seat, Star hovering attentively. 

“I did all the _work_ , David.” 

Marko twists and gets the girl underneath him, almost surprised at the weight of her beau against his back. She smiles and sighs and it’s almost a shame that she’s not much longer for the world because she does kiss him so sweetly, her fingers entwined with the boy’s over his shoulder.

The girl barely blinks when he changes, hardly breaks a sweat.

Marko enjoys a mess -- he enjoys a struggle. But _this_ is rare and exciting. His teeth break her skin easily, they sink into the muscle of her shoulder like a knife through butter. The hit of dopamine in the hot blood that flows over his tongue is better than any drug he’s sampled. Her heart slows and she gets softer and more pliable. Her hand drops from his shoulder, falling from her beau’s grasp.

It’s remarkable how quickly a gallon goes.

Marko sits up and reaches back to pat the boy’s cheek in reassurance. He’s so full and heavy.

“She’s alright?” the little romantic asks in a sleepy voice. Marko assures him she is. Just resting her eyes, obviously. He hardly notices the change in Marko’s visage.

“You want to go see David,” Marko breathes. He grins, ghoulish and monstrous, and the hapless entree just nods and starts to stand. Marko flops beside the remnants of his meal, more sated and fat than he’s been in weeks. He looks at her, soft and pale and quiet in the weak, yellowy light in the cave. He prefers a messier dinner, he thinks. Something with fight. This is nice in the happening of it but not in the afterward.

David frightens his prey -- which panics the couple that Dwayne and Paul are sharing between them. Star vanishes with the commotion, never one for a taste of difficulty or confusion. This life isn’t _for_ her, Marko has said again and again. She doesn’t know how to let go, how to have fun, how to give in. But David is fixated like some sort of bastard _Peter Pan_.

Marko can’t help but be annoyed when it’s all said and done. Out on the beach -- in the back of some burnout’s van -- in the alleys behind the shops on the boardwalk -- those were the places a mess and a fight were fun. To leave the refuse behind and then listen to the frightened whispers spread through the community. Because it never made the news, of course. Maybe the tabloid rags, but never anything legitimate. But everyone _knew_. And they’d pretend it didn’t happen and that Santa Carla was safe and wonderful and wasn’t the murder capital of the world… until the next time.

But in the caves, in their _home_ , the mess was unacceptable. The place would stink -- none of the boys would take the initiative to clean it up, himself included. The waste, especially in the off-season where their choices were slim and they _couldn’t_ just go out and pluck whoever they wanted from the _Surf Shack_ , was nonsensical. Regular food was unsatisfying, it didn’t give them more than empty sustenance -- a full belly with none of the benefit. Empty calories like drinking beer and getting a gut from it.

But they all humored David and his impetuous personality, his disregard for the long-term. It was their own fault, really. Star’s presence was the best example of it. How long could they tolerate her halfling needs? The drain she put on their personal resources. On the upper platform in the romantic, fairytale nest she’d made for herself, she peeks out from behind the layers of scrap fabric and shawls and mosquito netting hanging around the salvaged bed and makes a strangled sound of fright and disgust.

“ _Cry, little sister_ ,” Marko mutters under his breath, mocking. He glares up at her from his place sitting on the edge of the fountain, nursing a bottle that someone started and forgot. It’s cheap and it’s gone warm but he’s already high on oxytocin and it helps keep his buzz up while everything around him wants to kill it off.

Paul and Dwayne come laughing, crashing down on either side of him. Their hands are much more greedy than the others. They know they can be rough, they know they can grab and pinch and scrape. Dwayne crushes him in the heavy clutch of his thick arm and smacks a loud, sloppy kiss against the top of his head.

“You picked a good batch!” he laughs and teeters on his seat, making the three of them sway. “Haven’t had anything so fresh in a while, man.”

“Mm.” Marko’s face is trapped in the space under Dwayne’s chin and he can smell the satisfaction rolling off of him. “Too bad we have to take out the trash.” He squirms free, warm from the proximity. 

Paul snakes an arm around his waist and draws him close. His tongue is wet against Marko’s jaw, swiping languidly from under his ear and toward his cheek. “You needed a napkin,” he giggles, distracting Marko from David’s attention to the whining burden in the bed.

“Hey, Dwayne,” Marko says, pulling his focus back to the two immediately at his side. “They had a real nice ride.”

“Did they?” His eyes shine in the low light. He can’t resist the draw of a nice car, always complaining that they should find someplace to keep one instead of always ditching them.

“Mhm.” Marko sighs for dramatic effect. “Too bad the sun’s nearly up. And we need the car to get rid of the bodies.”

Dwayne is quiet for a moment, considering things. “We could chuck ‘em in the back with the brewskies. I could take them out tomorrow night.” His tongue sticks out from between his teeth and his brow comes together like he’s concentrating on the road. He flings one arm around Marko and Paul. “Little joy ride, little desecration of remains.”

Paul peeks up from under Dwayne’s arm and Marko’s chin. “You know you gotta dump the car too, dude.”

“Yeah! Eventually! I can drive it ‘til it runs outta juice. Pick up a babe or two, maybe.” He wags his eyebrows and grins. Marko sometimes wonders if his leg is hollow, stunned by the sheer volume he can consume.

Marko stretches and yawns, squeezing out from between the pair of them. He makes a show of leaning over to pop the stiffness in his back and rubbing his eyes.

“I could take care of yours, Mar.” Dwayne looks at him with a weirdly soft, amiable expression.

“Mm, could you?” Of course he can. And he should. Did Marko not deliver him a choice cut and a sweet ride?

“Of course!” Dwayne jumps up off of the edge of the fountain. Abandoned, Paul falls over with a little _oof_ and glares up at them. “Besides, you’d just drag it.” He steps forward and pats the top of Marko’s head like he’s a child or a pet and shrieks laughing, dancing away when Marko makes to grab the hand to break it.

Dwayne stalks over to the pile of cushions Marko had left the girl on and hefts her onto his shoulder like a bale of hay. He lifts her hand and waves it at Marko. “Thanks so much for havin’ me!” he says in a mocking, high-pitched voice. “I had a great time!”

Laughing, Dwayne carries the body off toward the back of the cave. Paul flops onto his back, dangling one leg to scrape his toes against the floor. “Looks like David’s done for the day.”

The curtains around the bed are still and even straining as hard as he can, Marko can’t hear more than sleep-breathing sounds. He shrugs, he can’t devote the energy to caring. If David doesn’t want to sleep with the tribe -- where they’re most connected, most safe -- then he doesn’t need to. He can be out here, vulnerable, on his own.

Marko doesn’t care.

Paul drums out a melody against his stomach and whistles off tune. “I’m too amped up. I wish it wasn’t so close to sunrise. Joy ride sounds real good.”

“With Dwayne driving? If we could die I’d say you had a death wish.”

Paul turns on his side, stretched out like a centerfold. “We could have a little fun anyway.”

They both watch Dwayne return to heft the pair of husks he and Paul left behind, one under each arm, their toes dragging across the floor while he carries them.

Marko watches Dwayne go for a moment before he answers. “We could have a lot of fun.”

“Promise?”

“Oh, I promise.”

In the blink of an eye Paul is beside him, his arm wrapped around Marko’s waist and pulling him close. “Then let’s have fun.”

They retreat to the cushions, less dust rising this time when they drop into the pile. One of them is wet, stale with blood from Marko’s meal. He’ll throw it out later, pitch it into the ocean like all the other garbage dumped by the humans on the beach and in their boats. No one will care. Paul lets himself be pinned down into the musty pile, grinning up at Marko and picking at the uneven hem of his shirt, pulling threads until a new hole starts on the edge.

“You’re stupidly pretty, do you know that?” Marko laughs and Paul purses his lips in an exaggerated smooch. “And stupid and pretty.”

“Hey!” Paul pouts and pulls harder on Marko’s shirt. He looks down at the wide loop of dingy teeshirt hanging below his navel and raises a scolding brow. “Whoops!” Paul snorts.

“You’re a little shit.”

“The shittiest, man.”

Paul pulls him down and it’s almost embarrassing how nice it is to be kissed with no strings. No hypnotic impulse, no bribery, no bitter manipulation. Just casual, mutual want. Marko sinks his fingers into the bird’s nest of Paul’s hair and listens to the hisses and whines at the tugs on all the teased knots. Paul shoves the jacket off of Marko’s shoulders and it falls behind him, the flap of the heavy denim louder against the cavern walls all around them. The shock of the cold ocean cove sends goosebumps over Marko’s bare arms and an involuntary twitch through his spine.

Paul’s hands are big and soft -- a privileged boy turned layabout immortal. They’re nice on Marko’s skin, all over his back and his stomach and his arms. Paul sits up and pushes Marko’s shirt up around his throat. He crushes his face against Marko’s chest, his mouth wet and sloppy. Marko presses him closer and he makes a ridiculous snuffling sound, his nose smooshed against Marko’s sternum.

“Can I?” Paul breathes against him, tipping his mouth toward his prize.

“Can _I_?” Marko counters, not needing to specify. Paul groans and offers up his hand, bending it back so his wrist slips tantalizingly from his sleeve. 

Marko takes the offering, sinking his teeth into the plump radial artery. Paul’s blood flows much slower than from some foolish human, rich with bright, clean oxygen from the ocean air. It’s like licking icing out of a _Betty Croker_ can. It’s all the more sweet with Paul’s mouth on his tit, sucking until his nipple is hard and laughing while he grinds it cruelly between his teeth.

Paul gets pliant and relaxed, his arm around Marko much weaker and his efforts with his mouth less enthusiastic. “You might as well’ve sucked it straight outta my dick,” he slurs against a high-pitched giggle. “I think I just jizzed my pants.”

“Gross,” Marko snorts and swipes his tongue against Paul’s wrist. Paul sinks back against the cushions lazily, a punch-drunk smile on his face.

“Whoah,” Dwayne says behind them. “Put up a _do not disturb_.” He snickers and chucks and empty bottle toward them. Marko bats it out of the way and it breaks on the floor. The glass tinkles against the packed dirt and old, crumbled tile. “I’m sleeping alone today, aren’t I?”

Paul holds up a wavering thumbs up and Dwayne rolls his eyes, annoyed. “Mar _ko_ ,” he whines, his complaint unspecified.

Marko pats his cheek, less than gently. “We should get you to bed.”

“Aw, but the fun’s just started!”

Marko barks out a laugh. “Dude, fun never ends, remember?” He gets to his feet, ungracefully, and snatches his jacket from the floor.

“Oh, _yeah_ ,” Pauls says, like it’s truly just dawned on him. He flings his arms upward, the rest of him limp and lazy. “Help me up then!” He cackles wildly when Dwayne throws him over his shoulder, laughing harder at the swat to his ass when he can’t stop himself and reaching out to grab at Marko as he follows.

**Author's Note:**

> I love comments!
> 
> [Find me here.](https://aryagreenleaf.carrd.co/)


End file.
